


fear is the weight we carry

by skyekingsleigh



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 8x02, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, in my mind this is canon, what should have happened after the revelation scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 21:29:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18859480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyekingsleigh/pseuds/skyekingsleigh
Summary: Jon and Dany have a follow-up conversation about Jon's true parentage and how it will affect their relationship.





	fear is the weight we carry

**Author's Note:**

> guess who's back, back again with a new fandom, tell a friend blah blah. seven words: I WILL GO DOWN WITH THIS SHIP. title from Johanna Warren's "Black Moss"

The dead is getting nearer and nearer each passing day but it’s the last thing on Daenerys’ mind. She didn’t know when the lines between duty and pleasure became blurred for her, didn’t know when the good of the entire kingdom became less important in her mind. Perhaps it was when she permitted her men and the King in the North to venture beyond the wall no matter how dangerous. Perhaps it was when the same King doubted the witch who cursed her and made hope swell in her chest. Perhaps it was when Jon Snow, King in the North, came knocking on her cabin on their way to White Harbor and allowed him to love her, over and over for days on end, and she loved him in return. Perhaps Dany never cared for duty, after all, after getting a taste of what she most truly desired, after getting to know what if felt like to be loved, _just loved_ , with no ulterior motives and no legacies in mind, after getting to know him, _Jon Snow_ , who had changed everything for her.

It had been three dreadful days since they last spoke but it felt like years spent in solitude and agony. She couldn’t explain the heavy ache in her chest, her need to go to him and just talk. She would give everything to go back to that ship, or that waterfall, to the way they were before House names and parentages ruined them, and that scared her the most. Never before had something else been on the top of her priorities. It was always the people –of Essos or Westeros, it did not matter. She wanted to rule. She wanted to break the wheel. She wanted to leave the world a better place than it was found. She wanted change. But now she wanted him _more_ , and she’s bloody terrified.

“Do you wish for a warm bath, Your Grace?” Missandei entered her chambers carrying a tray with fruits and mulled wine, obeying her request for a private, light supper. Her friend sets the food down the vanity table before standing straight, waiting for her response.

She smiled at the dark-haired beauty, albeit forcedly. “Not in this cold, no. Perhaps tomorrow.”

“As you wish,” Missandei curtseyed and moved to leave, only stopping once she reached the door. “Lord Snow, what are you doing here?”

Dany snaps to attention, her heart pounding in her chest at her friend’s words. Could it be possible? Would the dreaded conversation they ought to have happen now? There’s always the chance of it being Bran Stark, perhaps coming to apologize for butting into her business and ruining her one chance at happiness. She shook the bitter thoughts away. She heard his voice, though, deep and gruff as always, and all doubts went away.

“I’m afraid the Queen is getting ready for bed. It’s been a tiring day. She’s requested to dine alone.”

“I’m not taking no for an answer,” he replied, and Daenerys almost smiled at his stubbornness. 

She hears Missandei stand her ground and say no still, so with a reluctant sigh she got up from where she’s seated on the bed and walked toward them. Under different circumstances, the sight would have amused her. There Missandei was, two hands rested on her hips defiantly with a disapproving glare on her face, standing in front of Jon who looked unfairly handsome and strong and every bit the King he used to be. 

“It’s all right, Missandei,” she interrupts their dispute, making both snap their eyes towards her. 

He took her breath away. It wasn’t right, but he did the second their eyes met, deep brown to purple. His hair was tied back in a half-bun like before, but for some reason looked messier now. He was wearing his full gear, complete with his Night Watch cloak and sword. He was breathtaking, and Dany already hated every second of the encounter. She could feel the hurt and betrayal creeping up, and she prayed no one would notice the sudden tears lining her eyes. He didn’t deserve her tears. Not after three whole days of silence.

Clearing her throat, she gave Missandei a reassuring look. “Leave us.”

She didn’t protest further, simply bowing her head and walking off. She waits for Missandei to disappear from the hall completely, trying to calm herself, before returning her gaze on Jon. 

“Dany–“

“Can I help you, Lord Snow?” He flinched at the formality, the brief pain and frustration that flashed in his eyes making Daenerys ache inside just a little more.

He clenched his jaw tightly before sighing. “May I come in, Your Grace?”

The words sounded forced when they came out, but she wasn’t expecting any less. She moved aside, letting him inside her chambers before shutting the door. For a brief moment, she remembered the time he sought her out on her ship, want and desire in his eyes that she knew hers reflected greedily. It seemed like a lifetime and not merely a month ago. This time there’s wariness and awkwardness and hurt. She didn’t like it, not one bit.

“We need to talk,” he starts, not moving from his spot near the door and merely watching as Daenerys walked to the vanity to sip from her cup of wine. She continued shuffling about, not giving him any chance to know that she was as affected as she really were. 

“Do we?” She inquired, raising a brow at him before looking away again. “That wasn’t quite the message you were sending when you avoided me like a plague for the past three days.”

Jon huffed, no doubt expecting her bitter remark. “Dany–“

“It’s 'Your Grace',” she interrupted, making even herself flinch at the harsh words. This time there was no masking the hurt in his eyes, and it stung her, even if he’d been hurting her far longer.

_“My Queen,”_ he says instead, this time taking a few steps closer to her. Dany shut her eyes tight at his words. She remembered the first time he had uttered them, how ready she was to lunge at him and kiss him and love him senseless. “I shouldn’t have ignored nor avoided you. That was wrong of me. But I needed to time to think. I needed to figure out if–“

“Whether I am worth it?” She cuts him off again, afraid to look in his direction lest the answer to her question lies in his eyes. “Whether being with me, _your aunt_ , disgusts you more than I could ever please you?”

From her peripheral, she could see Jon shaking his head. “That’s not what I mean–“

“How _cruel_ ,” she continues, now not bothering to hide how her chin quivered, how her voice broke, how her tears had started to fall. “How cruel could the Gods be, to give me a glimpse of every thing I have ever wanted, every thing I have ever desired, to give me a glimpse of _love_ and to give me _hope_ , only to tear it away right from my hands?”

Jon released a shaky breath, now close enough to touch her lightly on both arms. 

“Tell me; are they laughing at my pain? Are they laughing at my misery?” 

“No one is laughing,” He disagreed, his grip slowly strengthening along with the tone of his voice. “Dany, I’m so sorry. This wasn’t something we both could have expected, I…”

Daenerys broke away from his hold, steeling her pain. “Do you plan on leaving me, Jon?”

“What?”

“Do you plan on leaving me?” she repeated the words coldly. “Because I am telling you now. _Go_. If that is what you intend to do, go now, while I can still handle it, before I love you too much. Do you plan on leaving me?”

He came closer, but Dany walked away, going back instead to her bed to sit down. “I grew up with all these stories, about mad Targaryens and dragons; how they brought about destruction and blood and fire.”

She closed her eyes, barely swallowing down a sob at where his words will lead him.

“It’s how I was programmed. It’s been _drilled_ into me before I was even born.” Jon closed his hands into fists. “But I still came to you. I still bent the knee. I still allowed myself to fall in love with you.”

Her eyes opened at the words, seeking dishonesty in his and almost crying out in relief when she had found none.

“I never would have believed that I would have found love again, Dany. When I died and came back, all that mattered was my duty to the people, to the living. It’s why I asked for your help in the first place.” He paused to take a breath and then let out a small chuckle. “Imagine how surprised I was to find myself outside your cabin that night, knocking on your door, the biggest urge to kiss you the only thing on my mind. I could only hope that you felt the same.”

“That was before you knew,” she whispered but he still heard. “That was before you found out, about Lyanna and Rhaegar.” 

Jon nodded. “Aye. That was way before that.”

“And now?” Dany prompted, looking at him directly. “Now what?”

“I would be lying, Your Grace, if I told you it didn’t bother me.” He admits, making a bitter smile grace her face. “But the thing is…”

“Yes?”

“The thing is after all was said and done, after I had walked out on you from the crypts and avoided you, I realized that it didn’t matter.” The bed dipped from beside her, and she was met with his strong, male scent. She flinched when she felt his cold hands covering her warm ones, intertwining them together. “It didn’t matter to me because I love you, Dany. And my love far outweighs whatever else revelation or bull the gods have to offer me, to us.”

Dany lets him grip her hands, lets him take some of her warmth, lets her tears fall. “It’s not that easy.”

“Yes, it is,” he insisted.

She shook her head before looking at him. “You’re the heir to the Iron Throne.”

“I don’t want it,” he vowed to her, coaxing her to look at him. “It’s yours. I don’t want it.”

She frowns then. “It does not matter what you want, Jon Snow. The people will never let me lead knowing someone better could do it.”

“You are the better of the two of us. It’s why I bent the knee. I believe in you.”

Dany shook her head in disagreement. “You do not understand.”

“Then marry me,” he declared, making her gasp. “Marry me, My Queen, and we shall rule the seven kingdoms together. We’ll do everything together.”

She looked at him as if he’d grown another head. He might as well have. “I do not marry for duty. Not anymore.”

“Then don’t,” Jon lets go of her hands in favor of cupping her face in his. “Marry me. Not for duty or titles or any other reason than because I love you. And you love me.”

Against herself, she lets out a tiny smile. “Your family would never approve of it.”

“I don’t need anyone’s approval,” he scoffs, making Daenerys chuckle.

“As you have proven before,” she nods before biting her lip. “I am afraid, Jon.”

He pulled her closer, foreheads resting against each other. “Would you care to tell me why, My Queen?”

“I am afraid,” she whispers. “Of how much I want it. I really really _really_ want it; more than the iron throne, more than the house with the lemon tree and red door. More than anything.”

Jon dips his head down to catch her trembling lips in a deep and desperate kiss, one that’s been three days too late. “Whatever My Queen wants, she shall have,” he tells her, making the both of them laugh.

“Do you love me, Jon Snow?” she inquiries, bliss gleaming in her eyes.

“Like you, I am afraid, Your Grace.”

She gives him a questioning look. He presses another chaste, hard kiss to her mouth before replying.

“I'm afraid of just how much.”


End file.
